Hawks and Doves
by afaithfulwriter890
Summary: He was a soldier; hardened by many seasons of battle and hardship. She was a foundling that had been abandoned and neglected, and yet still had hope. He was meant to bring war. She was meant to bring peace. But what they brought together meant far much more. OC. Full summary inside.
1. Prologue

_Hawks and Doves - Prologue_

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**This story is, in a way, an allegory for what happened in the United States back in the 1960s and 1970s during the Vietnam War. My father was in that war, and the idea came to me during my history class when we were learning about the war itself. Basically, the United States was divided into two categories: the hawks and the doves. The hawks supported the war, and were willing to send more troops to crush their Communist enemies. The doves were the younger generation, and they wanted peace. They wanted Americans to stop dying on the other side of the world in a war in which they didn't even know what they were fighting for. So, that whole theme (if you can call it that) will tie into the story. **

**Full Synopsis:**

**He was a soldier; hardened by many seasons of battle and hardship.**

**She was a foundling that had been abandoned and neglected, and yet still had hope.**

**He was meant to bring war.**

**She was meant to bring peace.**

**But what they brought together meant far much more.**

**Dovefeather is a warrior of NightClan. Having just got her name a moon before, she is eager to prove her worth to the Clan, and to Hawkstorm, the Clan deputy. She watches him when he's not looking, admiring his strength and strategic mindset, however, there is a lot about the NightClan deputy that she doesn't know.**

** Hawkstorm is not a good cat. He is hard, cruel and downright cynical. Believing his Clan has become a bunch of soft-footed cowards under the leadership of Swiftstar, turns to other, more malevolent sources for help to restore its Clan to glory.**

**The warriors tell her to stay away; he's bad news. They tell her that he is too far gone; lost in his own bitter past. They say that this is the tom that is believed to be the downfall of NightClan as they know it. Despite all the things they say, Dovefeather refuses to listen to them. She won't give up home on him. Evil is not born, it's created, and evil can be abolished with a little bit of love.**

**I don't own Warriors.**

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**Prologue**

"Do you think they're dead?"

The question was asked rhetorically, without an answer anticipated, but someone replied, "Yeah… Yeah, I think they are."

The cat that had spoken first made a sound of distaste. "Pity."

Four cats surrounded a large, crystalline stone in the middle of a small cavern. Moonlight reflected off the smooth edges, giving the cavern a silver gleam, and making the cats' pelts shimmer likes starlight. They each seemed unease in the others' presences, and yet, they cooperated with each other, and seemed rather civil. Still, it was clear that none of them trusted each other in the slightest, but they had no choice but to work together.

"I would have thought that there would be a different outcome," a third cat spoke. This cat was a broad-shouldered tom with a deep voice that echoed off the cavern walls.

The second cat that had spoken nodded. "I think we all did, Nettlestar." This cat was a female, and the smallest of the four of them. Yet, she seemed to be the most respected all of them. The other cats regarded her with wary glances, but they were more eager to listen to her then to one another.

"What happens now?" the fourth cat asked; another tom.

"I don't know," the first, also a tom, confessed. "They weren't both supposed to die… Only one. The prophecy foretold-"

"The prophecy was not fulfilled," the she-cat stated.

"But all prophecies come true," Nettlestar said, his tail twitching, as if with annoyance.

The she-cat shook her head. "Prophecies have been fulfilled in the past because the Clans have always trusted StarClan's judgment. They may not have always wanted what we foretold, but they had faith in us, and our words. They chose to take their rightful role in the prophecy and complete it as we said it would be so. These cats… did not want the prophecy to be true."

Nettlestar snorted. "Foolish," he grumbled. "That she-cat… throwing away her life for that—"

"What's done is done," the she-cat meowed with finalism. "We cannot change what they have done. They have chosen their paths… The Clans must simply adapt to this unexpected turn of events."

"But Moonstar… everything is wrong," the fourth cat protested. "She was not supposed to sacrifice her life to save his. He was supposed to die in that battle."

"And he did," the first cat pointed out. "Nothing has changed."

"Everything has changed, Brackenstar! She had her entire life ahead of her! She had the potential to lead her Clan, and she threw it away!" the cat growled.

"It's her loss, not ours," Brackenstar replied, flicking his tail dismissively. "The stupid she-cat made a choice, and now she has to deal with it. It's not our problem."

"It will be when the fate of the Clans is altered!"

"The fate of the Clans changes every day," Moonstar pointed out even-temperedly. "Each cat has the free will to make their own choices, Duckstar. All we can do is be there to guide them along their path. In the end, we cannot decide what they choose. She chose to love him, and she chose to die for him."

Duckstar shook his head, not wanting to give up, but not having anything else to add. Nettlestar finally concluded the meeting by stomping his paw on the floor of the cavern. "Let us be done with this nonsense. I've had enough of hawks and doves for one day, if you ask me."

Brackenstar let out a small grunt of agreement. "Yes, I second that."

With a sigh, Moonstar nodded her head. "Very well. The meeting is concluded." At her words, the four cats began to disperse from the cavern, each going their own way, and not bothering to bid each other farewell. Moonstar watched them go solemnly. None of them bothered to see if she had left as well; they just kept on walking, leaving her alone in the cavern.

Without the presence of the other cats, the cavern felt slightly overwhelming. Moonstar knew she was in one of the holiest places in all of StarClan. When she lived in the Clans, she treasured her visits here, viewing it as a way of being close to her ancestors, but now that she was one of them, it felt solemn, and even somewhat foreboding. The events that had unfolded just sun-shifts before still plagued the former leader's mind. Everything had gone wrong so quickly.

The prophecy that was issued had been a regular, run-of-the mill prophecy. An evil would arise, and a hero would come and strike it down. But there was something about this one that was different. Moonstar closed her eyes as she recited it in her head, A hawk will bring forth a violent storm which the Clan has never seen, and only the peaceful dove can tame the fearsome beast. At first, Moonstar had been sure that the dove in the prophecy would destroy the hawk, but she had never been more wrong. None of the StarClan cats had expected what ensued.

No one had expected that the peaceful dove would fall in love with the violent hawk.

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A/N: Review?


	2. Chapter 1

_Hawks and Doves - Chapter 1_

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**Thank you guys so much for the positive response! I was stunned by how many people liked this story! **

**Anyway, here's the next chapter!  
**

**I don't own Warriors.**

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**Chapter 1**

**POV;; Dovefeather**

"No, no, no, were you trained by a mouse? You had a chance to attack and knock your opponent off balance, and you didn't take it! Are you mouse-brained?" Hawkstorm snarled. Dovefeather watched from the sidelines as her deputy stared down the two younger warriors. Poppyleaf and Thornfoot stood side-by-side with their heads hung low. It was Thornfoot who had been the culprit of provoking the deputy and making him rage. Dovefeather had been watching the mock-fight, and could see both angles. Hawkstorm was right—he could have knocked Poppyleaf off her paws—but it would have been difficult, and Thornfoot, a scrawny little thing, didn't have the strength to perform such a move.

"I'm sorry, Hawkstorm," Thornfoot mumbled. "I'll try harder."

The deputy only leered in response before stalking back to the edge of the small arena. The cats were in a small hollow just outside the NightClan camp. Pine trees surrounded the hollow, their needles rustling in the early leaf-fall wind. Even though the breeze was small and barely noticeable, it brought a biting chill from the north that made Dovefeather shiver. Leaf-bare was on its way, and that would mean the worst time of the year for all Clans. NightClan got the worst of the deal when it came to leaf-bare. The only other Clan left in the territories—LakeClan—had the giant lake and the majority of its tributaries to provide for them. Even though they froze when the snowy season came, there were still animals clustered around the lake, burrowed in, waiting for newleaf. NightClan in their pine forests and swampy marshes were not as lucky. Prey was extremely scarce during leaf-bare, and Dovefeather knew that that would be just one more thing that would make Hawkstorm unpleasant company.

As NightClan's deputy, it was his job to make sure the Clan had food during the cold season, and that was a very difficult task. Dovefeather knew that there was a log weighing on his shoulders, and she respected him for that. _It can't be easy… I know that I would never want to have that kind of responsibility. Besides, I would never be able to do such a good a job as Hawkstorm._

"Dovefeather, Wolfpelt, your turn!" Hawkstorm's voice drifted over from his place at the edge of the arena.

Dovefeather suddenly felt very warm. She was very conscious of Hawkstorm's eyes on her as she stepped into the arena. Wolfpelt stood across from her; the thick-furred gray tom eyed her skeptically. Dovefeather knew that the tom was sizing her up, trying to get a better read on her defenses. She tried to mimic him; tried to look intimidating.

And she knew that she was doing a horrible job at it.

Dovefeather was not a good fighter—she never had been. Even her mentor, Stormwind, had admitted to Blackstar, their former leader, that she was not a very good fighter. However, she was a gifted hunter, and could catch almost anything she could get close to. Stormwind had told her that it was because of her gifted hunting skills that she became a warrior, nothing else. At the time, Dovefeather had been relieved to know that she'd be getting a warrior name, but now, she wished she'd spent more time as an apprentice, training and getting better.

Because now she was about to humiliate herself.

Wolfpelt was a young warrior—younger than she was—and he was inexperienced. In fact, most of NightClan's warriors were young and inexperienced. Back when Dovefeather had been an apprentice, NightClan had been caught in a fearsome war with their rival, LakeClan. So many cats had died in that war, and in the end, it had all been for nothing. There was no treaty, no agreement, just a ceasefire, and it had been that way since. NightClan had lost almost all of its warriors, as had LakeClan.

"Are you two done staring at each other?" Hawkstorm snarled, breaking Dovefeather's train of thought. She shot a glance at the deputy. Hawkstorm was circling the arena now, his claws flexing, and his eyes staring at her. They reminded her of two glittering emeralds, and were surprisingly nice to look at. "Fight!"

Dovefeather immediately returned her attention to Wolfpelt, who began to slowly stalk toward her. She didn't move, watching him closely. _C'mon, Dovefeather,_ she thought in hopes to encourage herself. _C'mon, don't make a fool of yourself!_

Without warning, the dark gray tom sprung toward her. Dovefeather braced herself for the impact, not even bothering to try to block his outstretched paws. Wolfpelt slammed into her, barreling her to the ground. Dovefeather grunted as he was crushed under his weight. Her back throbbed from coming in contact with the ground so quickly. Her limbs struggled wildly to push him off her, but it was a weak and feeble attempt. She could feel Hawkstorm's judgmental gaze on her pelt.

_C'mon, Dovefeather! _she thought with a snarl. _You're fighting like a kittypet!_

She bared her fangs at Wolfpelt did her best to batter him away with her paws. Wolfpelt hissed as her paws began to swat at his face. The tom hissed and pulled back just enough for Dovefeather to shove him off her with her hind legs. Wolfpelt staggered away from her, hissing and spitting in rage. "So, the little dove finally shows her talons," he sneered with narrowed eyes.

Dovefeather, who was usually on good terms with the younger tom, knew that he was trying to aggravate her. She growled – it was a low and guttural sound; it sounded so alien coming from her.

"Stop gabbing like a queen," Hawkstorm's voice drifted from the edge of the arena. "Fight like warriors, or don't fight at all! NightClan is not a band of rogues, and we will not have our warriors fight like those flea-bags!"

Dovefeather couldn't help but notice the butterflies that began to bounce around in her stomach when she heard Hawkstorm tell Wolfpelt to stop irritating her. Of course, it hadn't really been _for_ her, but it still made her feel slightly special. _He didn't yell at other cats when they insulted each—_

Her thoughts were cut off as Wolfpelt charged her again. She growled as, instead of leaping at her, he stopped short, and pawed at her face. Dovefeather growled and surged forward, knocking the younger tom over. Wolfpelt growled, and cursed under his breath. "I am not going to be beaten by the one cat in this Clan that can't fight! The medicine cat can fight better than you!"

His hind paws raked downward across her belly. Dovefeather flinched. She knew that if his claws had been unsheathed, he would have sliced her open from chest to tail-tip.

"And you're dead," Hawkstorm growled from his seat.

Dovefeather let Wolfpelt up in defeat. She hung her head, keeping her eyes on her paws. When she looked up, she came face-to-face with the evergreen eyes of Hawkstorm. She faltered for a moment, getting lost in his smoldering emerald gaze. She could see the fury and disappointment lurking there, and did her best to not let it affect her. And yet, she couldn't help but feel ashamed of herself. She had let her deputy down, and there was a slight ache in her chest that she didn't understand.

"If this was a real battle, you would be dead right now, Dovefeather," Hawkstorm snarled. His voice was full of rage and spite. He spat her name like it was disease.

She flinched. "I know. I realized that just was he moved his hind paws…"

"You noticed too late," Hawkstorm growled. "Honestly, it is a marvel that you ever even received your warrior name! I don't know what Blackstar was thinking!"

Without another word, or even another glare, he whipped around, and called for the next pair to enter the arena.

Dovefeather padded to the edge of the fighting area, her head hanging dejectedly. She sat down and curled her tail around her paws. She raised her head slightly to watch the fight, hoping to fool the others into thinking that she had at least a single shred of dignity left.

"I don't know why he pushes everyone so hard," she heard Sunstorm – a bright ginger tom – murmur. "It's like he's preparing for a war."

"In his mind, he probably is," a dark gray tom named Stonegaze replied. "The senior warriors – Hawkstorm included – remember the Great War that we fought with LakeClan. Since we never really settled things, there is always a chance that the war will start again… Whiskers, I don't even remember what we were fighting about in the first place. But Hawkstorm just wants to make sure that NightClan is prepared for another battle – it's better to be safe than sorry, right?"

Sunstorm pursed his lips together in a thin line. "We should be hunting right now – the fresh-kill pile is low. We train every single day, and we're all exhausted. Does Swiftstar even approve of this?"

"Of course she does, mouse-brain! Our leader isn't stupid – she knows that keeping her warriors' battle skills sharp is important," Stonegaze snapped. "Hawkstorm might go too hard on us, but he just wants to make sure we're ready – to make sure NightClan survives."

"Do you have feathers for brains!?" Hawkstorm snarled from across the arena. Dovefeather looked over, turning her attention away from the two toms. She saw that a brown tabby she-cat – Berryfur, it looked like – had the warrior Waspwing pinned beneath her. Hawkstorm stalked into the arena, his fur bristling. "How could you let her get the upper advantage like that? She was wide open – you could have had a clean slash at her throat, and you ignored it!"

Waspwing's fur bristled in response, and his lips curled in the beginnings of a snarl. "I didn't want to kill her!" he defended.

"This isn't a real battle," Hawkstorm sneered. "You wouldn't be killing her. Besides, when you're in battle – when you are fighting for your life, you don't get a choice!"

"Are you saying it's okay to kill?!" Waspwing nearly yowled, appalled.

"No, you fool," Hawkstorm growled. Dovefeather could see that the brown tabby tom was quickly loosing what little patience he had. "Every cat thinks that they have a choice on whether to kill, or not to kill. But you don't. In war, things happen – bad things. That's the way it is. Then your life is in danger and an enemy is coming at you, claws outstretched and fangs bared – you do whatever it takes to save your own skin. In the heat of the moment when a split second could mean the difference between life and death, you don't have a choice. You do what you have to do."

The warriors in the clearing stared at the older tom with wide, stunned eyes. Hawkstorm looked around at them, his chest heaving. For the first time in her life, she could have sworn she saw the deputy almost shrink under their astonished gazes. But it was only for a second. Hawkstorm immediately straightened up and regained his authoritative attitude. "I think that is enough for today. Nestnose, take a hunting patrol out. Thistlewhisker, you do the same. We need to restock the fresh-kill pile."

Dovefeather watched as Hawkstorm turned away from the cats and started back toward the camp. Her eyes lingered on him – keeping track of his disappearing form. If her Clan-mates noticed, they didn't say anything. Dovefeather saw what Hawkstorm had been trying to say – that in the heat of the moment, you do whatever it takes. It seemed easy enough to comprehend, so why was everyone horrified by it? She was one of the most straight-laced cats in NightClan, and she didn't find a problem in what Hawkstorm had said.

For a moment, she was tempted to follow him back to camp – she knew that Swiftstar would find out about what he said, and there would most likely be repercussions for it. _But Hawkstorm doesn't deserve it. Warriors can think for themselves – it's not like he said that to a bunch of impressionable kits._

"Dovefeather!" Sunstorm's voice called.

She turned to see the ginger tom standing next to the young Thistlewhisker – the newest warrior in NightClan. Sunstorm gave her a warm, inviting smile. "Wanna join the hunting patrol?"

Dovefeather couldn't hide her smile. If only Hawkstorm had asked to assess their hunting skills! She certainly would have impressed him then; she was one of the best hunters in NightClan! "Yeah, coming!" she shouted back, rising to her paws. She shot one last glance where Hawkstorm had disappeared, and shook her head. _Stop thinking about him so much. It's weird,_ she thought before bounding toward Sunstorm.

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A/N: Review?


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